154

Making my deliveries

1 paz

1 Paz

Blood poured from several openings. There is always too much blood and gore. The physical becomes more and more synthetic over time. The physical expands and grows into a larger and larger being, encompassing everything. The physical becomes greater than the sum of its parts. The sights and sounds of all the accessories put the poor little fool into fits. The lights and sounds spin around and around his head. And then there are the smells and the feelings that swallow him up and overwhelm him. There also is the madness of the vagaries of life that eat away at him little by little, one bite after another come for him like a school of piranha to eat and devour his little world.

You are without support, now. You are not resistant to the hegemony of the distinctive forms of the touchstones of critique. You are cynical and irreverent as you place your hopes on grimly evolved insipient solutions that no one can swallow. Alienated from the million eyes, you have become a creative installation of deviance and bogus values. With your blank bored demeanor, you absorb the impish and sweltering totality of negative choices of self-loathing and frittering your life away.

Kicker was jealous of her happy eyes. Her eyes mocked him with every twinkle. They taunted him to reach into his bag of severity. He pulled forth from his inner being all the evil he could muster. He fought back tears as he pulled the rope from his pocket. Kicker was shaking with the fear of what was about to happen. He knew that he was a puppet being manipulated by unseen strings. He coiled the rope around her neck like a snake. The rope was an inanimate thing that wanted life. The rope wanted Sushi’s life. She lived on this earth long enough and now she had to give it up to the rope. She had to surrender her life to the snake.

I wouldn’t say he is stupid, but gullible. He has a smothered flat face with a constant blank look upon it and his eyes seem almost lifeless. He always had difficulty making sense out of the larger world. He is constantly stoned on phenobarbital, diazepam, hydrocodone, and oxycodone. He has been in and out of a blackout for a good part of three years. The result of this is that his mind is pretty frayed. He is manning the helm of a sinking ship, a fool with no hope. It took him a total of nine weeks to organize his thoughts into some sort of meaningful pattern that would allow him to go on living. He couldn’t change his mind, once he believed there was no convincing him. He would filter out all evidence to the contrary. He was a stone cold believer no matter how foolish the belief.

He thought he could escape, but he couldn’t. The trap had been set long ago, before he was ever born. We can see them coming, we always do. The trick is to pick the right one. There are so many to choose from. The weak and the spineless are in abundance on this earth.

When I said that you were backward, quaint, naïve, anachronistic, I watched your eyes grow wider and wider as if they were juxtapositions of the parts of yourself. I leaned away from you repulsed by the dismantling of the clearly repressed and unifying obsessions of your face-stuffed wishful thinking that borders on the absurdist boundaries of hell wand high-water.

It’s no fun living an ugly life and to be so lonely. I’m not that bad, just misunderstood. If only I could explain things better, then maybe they would be able to see things my way. Kicker moves down lower to feel the psychic waves that are emanating from her. Each one jolts him as it hits his body and moves on. He never once thinks if someone else could feel this. You could say he lacked empathy, especially for his victims.

It was a beautiful expression of the brutal and extreme. The fools were standing at attention, composed and smiling, unaware of the evil that will soon befall them, fresh meat waiting for their rotation on the grill. They stand there almost unconscious, swelling with the unknown. They are like boxes waiting to be opened. They want to be inspired, to be filed with something they can’t understand. They come here out of boredom and just plain curiosity. They think it must all be some big elaborate joke. A couple of them look around for the TV cameras. This must be a hoax for some comedy show. Some of them are too tired to really give a shit. Soon they will be slumped over with their mouths open and their bodies twitching. Their stare will be affixed with a perpetual look of puzzlement. Death approaches like the magic of darkness, quick, simple, and effective. His is plugged in to the darkness, a complex nest of wires sprout from his body. The electric hum inside his head is the only thing that is keeping his fragile persona together. Suddenly whirling and stabbing at anything and everything within his line of sight.

I don’t want to get melodramatic about it, but sometimes I was paralyzed with terror. I ask myself why I didn’t just run away from this psychopath, especially when he began to talk funny and act strange. Why didn’t I get out when I had a chance? Well, things are never as simple and as easy as one thinks. There are always complications. Things get in the way from rational behavior. For most parts, the human creature can be described as irrational. Rational choice theory would describe human behavior as basically rational and that people calculate the benefits and costs of any behavior before acting out that behavior. Well, I would have to say bullshit. Many times people don’t do the rational thing. They do exactly the opposite of rational. My sticking around with Rocky Duabbe was an example of irrational behavior. I knew in the depths of my soul that Rocky was no good. It was intuition or something thattold me. 

All you know is that you are fucked and that you can’t feel anymore. You can’t feel for yourself and you can’t feel for others. You are totally numb. The world and others cannot reach you. Feeling nothing becomes comfortable and familiar. You find yourself enjoying the numbness, the unfeeling. You come to depend upon the numbness, it becomes your crutch to lean on and make you steady. There is no connection with another living soul on this earth.

the apostate

Julian (Latin: Flavius Claudius Julianus Augustus, Greek: Φλάβιος Κλαύδιος Ἰουλιανός Αὔγουστος;^[1] 331/332^[2]  – 26 June 363), also known as Julianthe Apostate, as well as Julian the Philosopher, was Roman Emperor from 361 to 363 and a noted philosopher and Greek writer.^[3]

A member of the Constantinian dynasty, Julian became Caesar over the western provinces by order of Constantius II in 355 and in this role campaigned successfully against the Alamanni and Franks. Most notable was his crushing victory over the Alamanni in 357 at the Battle of Argentoratum despite being outnumbered. In 360 in Lutetia (Paris) he was acclaimed Augustus by his soldiers, sparking a civil war between Julian and Constantius. Before the two could face each other in battle, however, Constantius died, after naming Julian as his rightful successor. In 363, Julian embarked on an ambitious campaign against the Sassanid Empire. Though initially successful, Julian was mortally wounded in battle and died shortly thereafter.

Julian was a man of unusually complex character: he was "the military commander, the theosophist, the social reformer, and the man of letters".^[4] He was the last non-Christian ruler of the Roman Empire, and it was his desire to bring the Empire back to its ancient Roman values in order to save it from dissolution.^[5] He purged the top-heavy state bureaucracy and attempted to revive traditional Roman religious practices at the cost of Christianity. His rejection of Christianity in favour of Neoplatonic paganism caused him to be called Julian the Apostate (Ἀποστάτης or Παραβάτης "Transgressor") by the church.^[6] He was the last emperor of the Constantinian dynasty, the empire's first Christian dynasty.